Wen’s knees hit the hard-packed dirt with a force that reverberated up his exhausted body. His lungs ached with the effort to draw in enough breath to keep from passing out, while his heart hammered so fast he feared it would burst. He couldn’t go on. He’d run as fast as his comparatively short Travian legs could manage and still his pursuers were gaining on him. Of course they were. Unlike him, they had a hovercraft. With each passing moment, it got closer and closer. The scrubland around him afforded little cover, and the outcropping of rock that had seemed a manageable distance when he’d started out now appeared farther away. A trick of the sun… He knew that. This damnable planet was hot and hazy and the vast areas lying beyond the human settlement and Travian command center robbed one of moisture and energy.

Accepting defeat, he fell down on his hands and waited to be caught. That was assuming the humans didn’t simply blow him to dust from their perch in the sky. How had they come to possess such a craft? He knew his own people’s technology, and he’d been on the planet long enough to know humans didn’t have anything like it. Not that it mattered. These humans chasing him were not of the farming community—not so far out here. He was sure of that. His human friend Jo-el had told him that his people had been forced to choose less desirable planets to colonize as time had worn on. This most current one—a place the humans called New World Colony Seven and to which Travians simply assigned a number—didn’t lend itself to cultivation very well. To succeed, the humans had concentrated their farming efforts on a small patch far from this area.

He drew in a ragged breath then choked on the dust the hovercraft kicked up as it landed nearby. He closed his eyes briefly and thought of his family. He wouldn’t get to see them again, and, in all likelihood, they’d never know what had happened to him. There was no chance he’d survive this assault. Even if he’d been armed, he’d spotted at least three humans pursuing him. He was outnumbered and probably outgunned. Besides, he was a scientist, not a soldier. Not really. He’d finished at the bottom of every combat course he’d taken as a cadet. No surprise there. As an almost-runt, he’d been lucky to have been accepted into the military at all.

A sudden silence surrounded him as the craft shut down. He waited with his head hanging, working up the courage to face his attackers. The clomping of their steps caught his attention before three pairs of scuffed brown boots entered his field of vision. With one more fleeting thought of his family, he raised his head. He wouldn’t die cowed in the dirt. Slowly, he straightened, throwing his shoulders back and keeping his hands by his sides. If these humans were not inclined to kill him right away, he didn’t want to give them any reason to.

He focused his gaze on the nearest set of feet and roamed up—and up. Then up some more as two thick legs planted themselves right in front of him. They tapered in briefly at a waist laden with all manner of weapons before widening again into a massive wall of muscle. Wen found himself staring at the tallest, largest human he’d ever seen. The male looked to be bigger than him, even. Wen had kind of liked working among humans because—for the first time in his life—he hadn’t been the small one. This male must be some kind of leader of his race. His vast size surely commanded respect.

The male scowled down at him, his square jaw clenched and his brow furrowed. As different as their two races were, they had similar enough expressions that Wen could easily see how pissed off this male was. He had so little hair on his head that his face was wide open, although his lower cheeks and jaw were dotted with bits of reddish-brown hair. Strange. None of the other humans he’d seen, including Jo-el, had such a trait. Was it natural to some of their species or a sign of something wrong? Regardless, it gave the human an even more menacing look. The male fascinated Wen and scared the shit out of him in equal measure. His gaze was so intense it felt as if his strange eyes—the color of the sky—bored right into him.

“What the fuck are you doing out here, boy?” The human’s voice was pitched low and rough. It sent a shiver up Wen’s spine.

“He’s obviously spying, boss.”

“Yeah, of course he is.”

The other two humans had come up to flank the obvious leader. The one who’d spoken first was even larger than the head male, scarier and with even less hair. The other was a boy no older than Wen, with a mop of hair the color of a Travian’s. He sneered down at Wen the way many of the cadets he’d served with did. The insult gave Wen spine.

Straightening even more, he returned their stares. “I am not a spy. I am Wen, a life scientist on a fact-finding mission concerning the natural resources of Planet Three-Five-Dash-Zero-Zero-Five-Triple-Dash-Nine.” He was proud of how strong his voice sounded, despite the quiver in his belly. All three humans had weapons strapped to their waists and on their arms. The largest of them and the boy held weapons in their hands, as well. Travian weapons, he realized with a lurch. How is that possible?

“Jesus fucking Christ,” the leader spat out. “What the hell are we supposed to do with you?”

The larger, secondary male took a half-step closer and raised his pulse rifle. “I have a suggestion, boss.”

The leader held out his hand as if to block him. “Give me a break, Branch. We’re not killing him.”

“Why not, Dax?” the kid practically whined. “They’ve killed enough of our people.”

“As far as we know, they’ve never summarily executed anyone, and that’s what you’re talking about here.” He blew out a loud breath. “Besides, we’re better than they are, right?”

The other two grumbled some kind of assent, yet their expressions trained on Wen remained dark and menacing.

“All right. On your feet, boy.” The leader issued the order with a wave of his hand.

Wen stood up carefully. “My name is Wen.”

“Oh, yeah?” The human took a step closer and it took all of Wen’s self-control not to retreat. “Well, I’m Dax, Wen. And, if you give me one bit of trouble, I’ll let Branch here off his leash. You’ve led us on a merry enough chase as it is.”

Some of the words used made little sense to Wen, almost as if the human were making a joke. But he understood their meaning well enough. “I won’t give you any trouble. I have no wish to die.”

The human nodded once. “Good. Get moving.” He gestured toward their craft, the thing resting idly on the ground. Wen could confirm now that it was, indeed, Travian. They must have stolen it, although he’d heard nothing about theft since he’d joined the garrison. These males didn’t strike him as farmers, either. So who were they and what were they doing on the planet? He’d only glimpsed some kind of small settlement nestled among an outcropping of rocks before he’d been spotted himself and chased. He supposed he was about to get all of his questions answered. Whether or not he would live to tell anyone else was the issue.

He climbed into the craft at the silent urging of the leader. Dax, he’d called himself. An odd-sounding name, but then he knew from Jo-el that human names didn’t necessarily mean anything in particular. They put him in the back with Dax, while the boy took the helm with the larger male, Branch, sitting beside him. Now that was a name with meaning. It just struck Wen as strange that a mother would give her son such an agricultural one.

Although a fairly spacious craft in general, it felt very small to Wen as Dax’s big, hot, hard body pressed up against him. There had been a time not so long ago when he would have appreciated the feel of a powerful male. Since his near-death beating from Merell, however, Wen had become skittish. That was even without factoring in how he was a prisoner, heading to an unknown fate.

“What are you going to do with me?” he blurted out as the craft lifted off.

Through the sudden dust swirling around them, Dax turned his stern gaze on Wen. Those weirdly blue eyes pierced him once more. “I’ll let you know as soon as I figure that out, kid,” he said over the roar of the engine.

Well, what did I expect? He was their prisoner. The fact that they hadn’t killed him yet gave him hope that they wouldn’t at all. He knew, though, that they couldn’t simply let him go. Whoever they were, they weren’t supposed to be out there. Certainly, the garrison commander had no knowledge of them. If he had, Wen would have been briefed on the security situation the same way he already had been concerning the human settlement. Damn him for being an impulsive fool. He should never have given in to the yearning to explore on his own. Because he hadn’t filed a report, no one knew where he’d gone.

Despite feeling as if he’d run forever, the journey back to where he’d started, then beyond, took very little time. Wen was acutely aware of every moment, given how often his body collided with the human beside him. As used as he was to hard Travian males, this human felt like one of the rock walls they approached—unyielding. His palms sweated and his heart still raced, even though he’d caught his breath. Fear, of course, drove much of that reaction, but some of it reminded him of how he used to feel being in the presence of an older, enticing male. He silently chastised himself for being so silly. The human had no interest in him that way, and, even if he did, Wen had no interest in the human.

I don’t.

All thoughts of desire—or not—fled as they circled for a landing and Wen got his first good look at who populated the rather primitive buildings. Everyone’s face was turned up to watch them. There was one human—a female, if he wasn’t mistaken—with amazing dark skin. That didn’t surprise him, not really. He’d already seen the variety of skin and hair color of that species. It was the Travians around her, both female and male, that piqued his curiosity. How is this possible? The Travian garrison living among the official human settlement was set off to one side. It kept the two species living apart, and they gave each other a wide berth whenever their paths crossed. Not so here. Everyone was dressed as civilians, as well, and their stance beside the human implied that they mingled freely.

As soon as the hovercraft landed, the human, Dax, gave Wen a little shove. “Get out.”

Wen did as he was told, landing lightly on his feet. He stared at all the people gathering around them. They all wore the same drab, brown work clothes. Many carried what looked like basic farm implements. Some were armed like the humans who’d captured him, including an imposing Travian male, who pushed his way past the others. His gaze homed in on Wen and the menace he saw in the male’s expression had him cringing inside. He took an involuntary step backward and bumped into Dax. The human did an odd thing. He put his hand on Wen’s shoulder, but, far from frightening him, it oddly made him feel a little safer.

The Travian stopped in front of him. “You caught him, I see.”

“Yeah,” came that deep voice from over Wen’s head. “He gave us a good run. Says his name is Wen and that he’s a life scientist. Whatever the hell that means.”

The Travian sneered briefly at hearing Wen’s name, which only served to make Wen raise his head in defiance. He’d spent his whole life staring down higher caste males who disrespected his humble birthright.

The Travian stepped closer and glared at him. “I am Burrell.” Naturally, a higher caste, almost the highest. Almost. “What are you doing out here, boy?”

Wen did his best to match the gaze. “Exploring the natural flora and fauna. I am a scientist, as the human said.”

The slap happened so fast Wen didn’t have a chance to avoid it, even if he hadn’t been pressed up against the human. Burrell bared his teeth. “That’s Commander Dax to you, runt. Show respect.”

The human—Commander Dax, apparently—pulled Wen back. “Hey, knock it off, Burrell. He’s my prisoner, after all, and I really don’t give a flying fuck what he calls me.”

Burrell didn’t like that. His expression changed in a way that was obvious to Wen. He could see how angry he was, yet trying to rein it in. Wen wondered if the humans could detect it. “Of course, Dax, as you say. These En caste boys, though, need a firm hand or they get above themselves.”

“Burrell, please.” A rather plump, older Travian woman worked her way past the crowd and joined the male. “Remember what our movement is about. We are not only trying to return to a simpler way of life, but we also want to end the social systems that led to war and rigidity to begin with.”

Burrell’s expression morphed immediately into one of contrition. “As you say, Clarith. My apologies. I see a boy in uniform and I revert back to my military days without even realizing it. I shall do better.”

He sketched a short bow. His words and demeanor were all calculated to placate a female, the kind of things that males said and did all the time. Did the female recognize it for what it was? And, for an Ell caste male to show such deference to a Th caste female struck a discordant tone for him, although no one seemed surprised by it. He started wondering what their Families were and what the mix of females and males might mean in this strange group.

Clarith approached him, a genuine smile gracing her face. “Are you truly out here for scientific reasons?”

Lowering his gaze in a respectful way, he answered, “Yes, ma’am.”

“And does anyone at the garrison know where you are?”

Wen considered lying for the span of a few heartbeats. But honesty had been drilled into him since birth, and he’d been told many times that he lacked the ability to fool females. “No, ma’am. I left early on my own without telling anyone. I just wanted to see more of the planet, out of curiosity.”

Clarith peered at him closely before nodding. “Well, that helps.”

“Has his vehicle been dealt with?” This from Dax, his warm breath teasing the top of Wen’s head.

The dark-skinned human female stepped up. She wore her equally dark hair in a long single braid. She looked military, the same as Dax and the other two human males who’d captured him. She had an air of authority, too. The idea of females lowering themselves to handle martial issues still struck him as strange, but the humans didn’t categorize roles by gender the way Travians still did.

“We drove it back here. Burrell removed the tracking device and we sent that off on a drone in the opposite direction. It’s set to self-destruct, so by the time anyone at the garrison realizes the kid’s missing and tracks him, they’ll find nothing but scattered, tiny pieces of metal and a mystery.”

Hearing this, Wen lost whatever hope had been left inside him that he’d be missed and rescued. He looked over his shoulder at Dax, the one being in the whole damn place that he already trusted to tell him the truth. Although he couldn’t say why.

“What are you going to do with me?” he asked once more.

The human rubbed at the back of his neck as he looked past Wen. “Fuck, this is a mess.” He shot his gaze to Wen. “We can’t just let you go, kid. You get that, don’t you?”

Wen didn’t shy away. “Yes, I understand.” A mewl of distress caught his attention, and he looked at Clarith.

“We’re not set up for keeping prisoners.” She raised her arms. “This is the beginning of a new way of life. We can’t start it by adopting the worst of our culture, either,” she added with a look at Burrell.

That male’s face took on a gleam that made Wen’s stomach clench. “We don’t need to kill him. Or keep him locked up as a prisoner. There is a third option.”

“I don’t understand, Burrell,” Clarith said.

“Me neither,” the human agreed. “Spit it out, Burrell. What is this third option?”

Wen’s stomach lurched even more. He knew the answer already.

“I’ll make him my boy.”

The subtle leer he’d sent Wen made him flinch.

Dax stepped up beside Wen. “Your what?”

A murmur rose from the crowd, and Clarith flapped her arms. “Oh dear. I’m not sure I like that idea any better.”

Burrell gave her a slight pat on her arm. “Please don’t distress yourself, ma’am. This is a male thing—a military tradition. The boy understands, and he’ll agree because it’s his best alternative. I assure you the solution is not offensive to him in the least.”

That might have been true if Burrell didn’t make his skin crawl or if the memory of Merell’s beating didn’t linger so sharply. He swallowed past the lump forming in his throat, working up the courage to accept his fate as the best possible outcome.

“Will somebody please explain to me what you’re talking about?” The human’s tone clearly indicated his patience was at an end.

“It’s simple, Commander,” Burrell began. “In the Travian tradition, males form bonds with junior boys by coupling. The boys appreciate the attention of someone more senior and the males like the release the boys afford them if they don’t have access to their mates.”

The male shifted to stare at Wen. “A boy in such a position gives his body and his allegiance to that male, utterly and completely. It’s a strong bond, and one that can only be broken by the senior male or by the direct order of a male even more senior, such as a commanding officer. As I am the senior Travian male of our cadre, there is no one to interfere with the bond. We won’t let him go back to the garrison, of course, where there is someone ranked above me. Simply put, once made, the boy won’t be able to change his mind and break off his bond to me.”

Unless you try to kill me. Wen would have broken his bond with Merell even if the male had survived the attempted rebellion. Loyalty between males and their boys had their limitations. But Burrell was right. If Wen pledged his body to him, he’d be unfailingly loyal, and that would mean sticking tight to the senior male. There’d be no running back to the garrison telling tales. The tradition was too engrained for him to break his word. Honor dictated that he keep the bond or not agree to it at all. Being killed or locked up for an indefinite period of time were worse choices, by far.

Dax shook his head. “Wait a minute. Are you saying that if this kid lets you fuck him, he’ll form a bond with you so tight that he won’t rat us out? Reveal our presence, I mean,” he clarified.

“That is correct.”

“Wow, that is so messed up.” This from Branch.

Dax glanced at his fellow human. “You got that right. It’s a fucking terrible idea. Right now, human boys are being held as sex slaves by Travians. We’re so not doing that ourselves.”

“Commander…Dax,” Burrell soothed. “It’s not the same thing. I will not force the boy. He will come to my sleeping pallet willingly.”

“To save his life. Or to keep himself from being locked up for who knows how long.” Dax shook his head. “That’s not being willing. That’s being desperate.”

“We Travians do not see it that way.”

“He’s right about that,” Clarith chimed in. She heaved a sigh. “I can’t say we females understand or appreciate male bonding, but, if the boy is willing to agree, I have no objections.” She turned her kind face toward Wen.

He looked at her, then at Burrell. He saw the male’s interest there and what it would mean for his fate. Then he looked at Dax. The human scowled back. He wasn’t happy with the solution. He was worried about Wen, even though he had every right to do what he wanted with his captive. As he stared at the commander’s face, Wen felt the first stirrings of yearning that he’d buried as he’d lain recuperating in the medical bay of Outer Ring Station Twelve. There was something strangely appealing about the human, and the male didn’t send a feeling of dread through him the way Burrell did. That male reminded Wen too much of his former master.

Knowing there was really only one solution to his plight and determined to take some measure of control, Wen dropped to his knees and gazed up at Dax.

“Please, sir. I’m willing to become a senior male’s boy and pledge loyalty to him. But I want it to be you. I know this isn’t something your species does or is comfortable with, yet I ask you, please, Commander, will you make me yours?”

Dax froze in place, peering down at the boy kneeling by his feet. What the fuck just happened? He wouldn’t have thought that his assignment to take command of this motley group of his human crew and Travian farmers who were setting up a secret settlement on Seven could get any weirder—but it had. The moment one of the Travians had spotted a craft nearby and he’d gone to investigate, Dax had mentally begun the process of pulling up stakes. If the Travian garrison learned of their existence, they’d be shit out of luck. He’d given chase without thinking about what they’d do with the guy once they’d caught him. He wouldn’t have been surprised for the whole thing to end in a skirmish in which he’d be forced to kill the interloper. But when he’d seen his quarry down on his hands and knees, out of breath and defeated, he’d known that wouldn’t be the ending after all.

He’d been shocked to see how young the alien looked, too. Christ. Although it was hard to tell with these creatures, he figured this boy, Wen, must be about Ben’s age, the Travian equivalent of eighteen or so—too young, in his estimation, to be out wandering a strange planet on his own. Stupid, really, to give the boy that kind of freedom and responsibility, although human armies enlisted teenagers. Ben was proof of that. They might be young by the standards of a thirty-year-old like himself, yet they were technically adults—not that any of this train of thought mattered. The real issue at hand was what was he supposed to do with a kneeling kid, pleading for him to take him on as a lover? What was this alien thinking?

He stared down at him, giving him the kind of flinty gaze he’d learned to use on junior guys to keep them in line. “What the fuck, kid? I’m a human. I’m not into this Travian male bonding bullshit.”

Wen peered up at him, unblinking, his weirdly black eyes boring into Dax. “Please, Commander. I will be loyal to you. I won’t give you a moment’s regret. You have my word, and…” The alien swallowed hard and looked away briefly. “I know that as a human you don’t understand our ways, but I promise you this means something to us—to me.”

Okay, now he heard the pleading, the almost-desperation. No, not almost. The kid was desperate. A glance at Burrell confirmed the reason why. Dax didn’t like the former Travian warrior who’d turned away from his military career to take up the Naturalist cause. The whole thing struck Dax as a little too out there. Sure, humans had paid—were still paying—a price for unbridled use of technology without any sensible safeguards for their planet. But these people seemed to be going in the opposite direction, as if there were no middle ground.

Looking around at all of the expectant faces—humans and aliens alike, waiting for his response—he felt uneasy. He rubbed at the back of his neck, a new tick he’d developed ever since he’d accepted that Travian implant for communication. Logically, he knew he couldn’t feel the thing, but he rubbed at the insertion site, anyway. He was torn. On the one hand, he couldn’t bring himself to exploit this kid. On the other hand, the idea of handing him over to Burrell turned his stomach. At least if Dax took him on, he could maybe kill two birds with one stone. Wen would be under his protection and control, while not being used like a fuck toy the way Burrell intended.

“Come on, Dax. This is stupid. You can’t be really thinking of agreeing to this.”

Dax looked over his shoulder at Ben. He opened his mouth to respond then got overridden by Cleo.

“Hush up, Ben. This is above your pay grade.”

The whiz-kid engineer, too wet behind the ears by half, opened his mouth to argue.

Dax cut him off. This whole thing was becoming a spectacle. “Cleo is right. This is my decision.” He heaved a sigh and looked down at Wen, then at Burrell. “I’ve been tasked by my government to keep this experimental settlement together. If that means taking on responsibility for this boy, so be it. I’m sure as fuck not killing him because I’m a soldier, not an executioner. I can’t let him go, either, so…”

He shrugged off the flash of fury he thought he saw crossing Burrell’s face at the announcement and concentrated on Wen instead. “Okay, kid, how does this work? What are the magic words you or I say to make this bonding thing stick?”

The young Travian’s relief was obvious in the way his body suddenly lost its tension. He gave Dax a tentative smile, although, with Travians, the expression always looked more like a grimace to Dax.

“There are no words in particular, master. I just give myself to you.”

The simple declaration did funny things to Dax’s nerves. A fluttery feeling he wasn’t used to spread through his chest. The impact on his dick, though, was completely familiar. It pulsed with interest, pressing against his fly in an abortive effort to become fully erect. What the hell? He wasn’t interested in boys in particular, although, having been raised on New World Colony One, he kind of leaned toward being bisexual. The dating pool in the colonies wasn’t exactly large. Not that he’d had much experience with either sex, but most of his sexual encounters had been with women. He didn’t like his body’s reaction, especially given how young Wen was.

Disturbed by his own response as much as anything else, he scowled down at the kid. “Don’t call me that. Master. I’m not your master. Understand?”

Wen dropped his gaze. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry.” His tone hit the perfect note of subservience and contrition.

Oh, Christ! This whole thing sucked on so many levels. “All right, everyone, the show is over. I’m sure you all have things to do.”

“Yes, of course,” Clarith said. The woman—no, the female—was ever the peacemaker. For all that, she struck Dax as being on the naïve side. She was truly kind-hearted and had an inner core of steel when the situation called for it. “We need to get started on the evening meal.”

The crowd broke up, everyone heading toward their appointed tasks. They’d only been together for the equivalent of an Earth month, yet things had settled down to a well-functioning routine. Branch gave Dax a sympathetic pat on the shoulder as he loped off. Cleo gave the equivalent in smile form. Ben glared down at Wen as he passed. No surprise there. The kid seemed to have a never-ending crush on him no matter how hard he tried to dissuade the boy.

Burrell waited until the rest had dispersed before coming closer—too close by Dax’s estimation. At six-seven, Dax was used to towering over just about everyone. Branch had always been the exception. That was, until Dax had started living among Travians. They were a large species, and even the females tended to be taller than Dax. Burrell was a good foot taller, and his proximity forced Dax to tilt his head up to meet the guy’s gaze.

“If you truly intend to take on this responsibility, you’ll need to bring him to your quarters immediately and start the bonding process.”

“Yeah, yeah. Right.” Dax would take Wen to the small, rustic hut that served as his private quarters, all right, then dump him there with a command to stay put. There would be no fucking, though, no matter how sorry that fact made his cock feel. As long as he kept the boy under his control, how he went about it was no one’s business but his own—and Wen’s, naturally. Dax assumed the boy would be relieved to learn he didn’t have to put out for Dax to get his protection.

Burrell didn’t seem satisfied with that answer. He stood there, staring from Dax to Wen as if expecting something more. Jesus, does he think this is like medieval Europe or something and he gets to witness the deflowering of the bride? Whatever. He didn’t like the way the guy still focused on Wen.

Snapping his fingers, Dax barked out, “Get up, kid.”

Wen leapt up with an admirably graceful move. With his hands clasped behind his back, he dutifully stood still, waiting for further orders.

Burrell curled up his lip. “I can’t say I’m sorry to miss out on taking the boy myself. I doubt he’ll make an adequate diversion. It’s astounding that he was allowed into military service at all.”

That sounded like sour grapes to Dax. Still, he couldn’t resist asking. “How so?”

Burrell sniffed. Dax would swear he did. “He’s practically a runt. Then again,” he added with another sniff, “he might prove an excellent fuck toy. It’s all he’s probably truly good for.”

Wen flinched as if he’d been slapped yet said nothing in response. The casual denigration rankled Dax. Now that the boy was his—whether he liked it or not—he felt responsible for him. He shifted so that he was between the two Travians.

“Thanks for the unsolicited observations, Burrell. Now, if you’ll excuse us?”

Not waiting for a response, Dax grabbed Wen’s arm and tugged him away. He would have liked to have laid into the older alien but he’d been told by his superiors to play nicely with the Travians. They were giving the humans all kinds of technological goodies, and this Naturalist movement was viewed as being the humans’ best chance at repelling the Travian occupiers and freeing the colonists on Seven.

Dax pulled his charge through the settlement to the far side where he’d been afforded a simple and small hut for himself. As the senior human, he got that luxury, and, while it wasn’t much, he relished the privacy. Of course, that was now gone. But he’d spent a good portion of his career, first as a civilian cop in training on One, then more recently as a soldier on Five, sharing barracks. He could handle having what would amount to a roommate. Opening the door, he ushered Wen in and shut out the rest of the world. The light sensor picked up their presence and illuminated the single room with a warm glow. Other than the sleeping pallet in the corner, Dax had two trunks for his gear, one square table and two straight-backed chairs. It wasn’t much. He loved it, anyway.

“Make yourself at home, kid,” he said idly as he stripped off his weapons. He placed them on top of one of the trunks the way he always did, trusting that the Travians knew what they were talking about and that Wen wouldn’t grab a gun and start shooting.

“Dinner should be ready in a little while, and we can go out and join the others. We like to eat communally. It’s more economical and easier on the ones doing the cooking.” He turned back to Wen and any further words dried on his tongue. His brain went blank. No surprise as all the blood had drained out and journeyed south.

Wen stood looking at him, his naked body bathed in the soft light. “How do you want me, sir?”